


sharp-edged circles and sweet things that sting

by lotts (LottieAnna)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Coming Out, Confusion, F/F, Getting Together, Podfic Available, Rule 63, please read the warnings in the notes, “character study” is fic author code for “wildly projecting”
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 12:23:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14748800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LottieAnna/pseuds/lotts
Summary: “Do you ever think about girls?” Mikey blurts out.(Or: It takes Mikey a few hours to fall in love with Nate, and a few years to realize it.)





	sharp-edged circles and sweet things that sting

**Author's Note:**

> IF YOU FOUND THIS THROUGH GOOGLING, KNOW ANYONE MENTIONED IN THIS STORY PERSONALLY, OR ARE MENTIONED YOURSELF: please, please click away. This is a work of fiction and nothing written in this story is true. Any accurate information used in this story is publicly available information about public figures, the rest is made up, 100%.
> 
> Warning: this is a story that’s got a lot of personal gay feelings in it, and also, has a lot of my most confusing regrets. There are a lot of discussions that allude to the nature of consent and talk about what it actually means to enjoy sex. Please tread carefully, especially if you have triggers with regards to assault and the “grey area” of consent that toxic cultures can thrust us into. 
> 
> **for more detailed warnings, which may contain spoilers, please check the endnotes.** this is ultimately a happy story about some happy girls, but some unhappy stuff happens along the way :(
> 
> Thanks to ash, rachel, ali, and alyssa for looking this over! your feedback means the world <3

Mikey McLeod meets Nathan Bastian at 7:30 AM on the first day of camp, and by noon, it’s pretty clear they’re going to be best friends.

At 9 PM, they meet up to pregame the party that one of the older guys is hosting, and by 11:30, they’re stumbling out, and they’ve both accepted that they’re gonna be grounded for the rest of forever, because there’s no way either of them is making it home before curfew.

“Hey,” Mikey says, “I’m really glad I got your number.”

“I’m really glad you asked,” Nate says, with the same dimpled smile that had caught Mikey’s eye first thing that morning.

“I’m really glad there’s another girl on the team,” Mikey continues, “And I’m really glad it’s you.”

“Me?” Nate says, pointing to herself, and Mikey grins, puts her finger to Nate’s chest.

“You,” she says, and then she stumbles into her.

Nate catches her, steadying her with both hands, and Mikey decides that she really likes Nate’s hands. They’re soft, calloused, with black sharpie on her fingernails that’s fading around the edges.

They’re also warm hands, and also, very big.

Nate, in general, is very big.

“Do you ever think about girls?” Mikey blurts out, the same way Ryan had when he was twelve, and Mikey was thirteen, and she’d almost chimed in with a ‘yes’ until she realized he was talking to Dylan, who had immediately turned red and started giving Mikey awkward looks until she left the basement.

“Like, women’s hockey players?” Nate asks, and that’s not at all what Mikey means, but she rolls with it.

“Yeah,” Mikey says. “Like… Szabados.”

“She’s a beast,” Nate says.

“She is,” Mikey agrees. “And she has really pretty hair, too.”

“I think we’re not supposed to talk about hair and stuff,” Nate says. “Apparently it’s, like, antifeminist.”

“That’s fucking stupid,” Mikey says, furrowing her brow. “I’ll talk about hair if I want to talk about hair.”

“You don’t seem like the kind of girl who likes to talk about hair a lot,” Nate says.

“I sometimes do,” Mikey says. “Can I talk about your hair? I really like your hair.”

Nate looks down at her feet, blushes, and smiles as she tucks a lock behind her ear. “It’s kind of boring.”

“No,” Mikey says, reaching out without really thinking about it. “I like it.”

“Yeah?” Nate says, and she looks amused, but also, her face is red, and her breath catches, a little.

“Yeah,” Mikey says. “I want to… braid it, I think.”

“You can,” Nate says, but the thing is, Mikey’s still standing in front of Nate, but her hand is on the back of her head, which means she can’t run her fingers through her hair, really, and anyway, her hand is caught in a knot, and she doesn’t want to yank on Nate’s hair.

Also, Nate’s face is… very close.

“What else can I do?” Mikey asks, tangling her fingers up in Nate’s hair, which feels like something she shouldn’t do, but also, like something she very much wants to do.

“I dunno,” Nate says, her eyes flickering down for a second before meeting Mikey’s again. “Whatever you want.”

Nate was looking at her lips, Mikey realizes.

Mikey returns the favor, but instead of glancing, she stares, wonders, hopes.

“Do you ever wear lipstick?”

“Not really,” Nate says.

“What about gloss?” Mikey asks, moving closer to Nate. “Or chapstick?”

“When it gets cold,” Nate says, and Mikey’s close enough now that she can feel Nate’s breath against her mouth.

“Are you wearing some now?”

“I don’t think so,” Nate says. “Why?”

Mikey doesn’t answer, because she doesn’t have any reason for asking besides needing something to kill the time it took to close the space between their lips.

Full disclosure: Mikey has kissed many, many people.

All boys, until now, but like, Mikey likes kissing, and likes being close, so, in hindsight, lesbian experimentation was probably inevitable.

Nate doesn’t seem angry, or scared, or grossed out, and, like, Mikey knows the stereotypes about female athletes, and she knows she’s living up to… a lot of them, but, like, expectations are boring, and tiring, and annoying, and Mikey doesn’t have to deal with them right now, because it’s just her and Nate.

Plus, Nate’s kissing back, now, and it’s like—

Y’know. Really fucking great.

Mikey’s pretty sure this is her one shot at kissing another girl in private, because privacy isn’t a thing you get with two brothers and a busy hockey schedule, and she knows guys can be gross about this stuff.

It’s kinda sad. She’s kinda curious to see what kissing Nate would be like sober, but she’s pretty sure that’s crossing a line.

But, she has this, for now, an awesome kiss with an awesome friend in the middle of a quiet street.

……

Mikey lost her virginity pretty young, and hasn’t really done the whole “dating” thing—hasn’t had the time to meet guys who aren’t on the team, and it’s not like teammates are an option—so she has a kind of… reputation. According to Taylor, she’s a heartbreaker, which is what people call you to your face if they call you a slut behind your back.

She’s not hurt by it, mostly, but it is, like, fucking annoying.

And, like. It makes “Never Have I Ever” a really weird experience, because Mikey’s kind of proud of how much she’s accomplished, but at the same time.

“Never have I ever made out with a teammate,” Gibby says, because Gibby is an asshole who won’t stop bugging Mikey about hooking up with him, even though she’s said no about a billion times.

But, Mikey and Nate share a glance, and both drink, and, as one would expect, the circle goes silent.

“Wait,” Nic says, “Who?”

“Dude,” Tip says elbowing him, and Mikey has to look away when she sees the realization set in.

No one says anything for a few seconds, but then Ryan clears his throat and says, “Never have I ever lived with a billet family.”

Mikey kind of wants to hug him, but she also can’t really look him in the eye, quite yet, but the moment passes once everyone’s done drinking, and the awkward tension in the room mostly dissipates.

(Later, as Mikey and Ryan are walking home, Ryan says, “Hey, so, Nate.”

“What about her?” Mikey says, feigning ignorance.

“It’s cool, if you and her are—”

“We’re not,” Mikey says quickly. “I’m not— I’m not like that.”

“Oh,” Ryan says, kind of deflating.

“I mean,” Mikey says, switching into older sister mode, “there’s nothing _wrong_ with—”

“I’m not— that’s not why I—”

“Just saying,” Mikey says.

“Me too,” Ryan says, a little too fast.

Mikey nods. “Alright, then.”

“Yeah,” Ryan says.

A few seconds pass where neither of them says anything, and then:

“I just have a friend, is all.”

“Really? Weird,” Mikey says.

Ryan elbows her. “I mean, I have a friend who might be— y’know. He’s confused.”

“Oh.” It’s too dark for Mikey to get a good look at Ryan’s face, so she honestly can’t tell if he’s actually talking about a friend, but she takes it at face value. “You’d better be nice about it, I’m not gonna let my little brother be a homophobe.”

“Of course I’m not, what the fuck,” Ryan says. “Just making sure you weren’t.”

“Duh,” Mikey says.

“Alright,” Ryan says, nodding. “Good.”

“Good,” Mikey agrees.

And that’s the only time anyone brings it up ever again.

Mikey should probably be more thankful about that.)

……

Don’t tell Dylan, but: the first guy who Mikey ever fucked was Ryan Strome.

That is a secret she is taking to her grave.

She was 16, he was 20, and she knew he felt bad for the way he was looking at her, but it hadn’t stopped him from looking.

No one had ever looked at her like that, is the thing. Mikey had always been a weird looking kid, skinny and scrawny and tomboyish, and she hadn’t really caught on to the way guys looked at her legs until it wasn’t a locker room anymore.

And Ryan Strome was handsome, and older, and Mikey was new to this, but brave about being new to it. He’d called her mature, been as nice as he could be while also being objectively skeevy. They both knew it, which is why Mikey had waited until she was the only one home, put on perfume, and casually asked him if he could come help her figure out their cable box, or something. Then, he got her off first, acted real smug about it, too, like Mikey didn’t know how to do that perfectly fine for herself.

Afterwards, she’d felt victorious, not guilty or upset, and at the time, she’d thought that was the same as enjoying it.

Now, she’s not so sure.

……

Anyway, the reason you can’t tell Dylan about the fact that Mikey fucked his brother is that Dylan’s seriously in love with Mikey.

Or, no. Dylan seriously wants to fuck her.

If Dylan was in love with Mikey, that’d be fine, but Dylan thinks of Mikey as his annoying little sister, except not, like, related, because he wants to fuck her.

A lot.

Like, it’s almost a joke, how badly he wants to fuck her. She doesn’t even blink when he gets hard while they’re wrestling, because it’s just, like, a thing; Mikey’s spent a lot of time around naked guys, she’s not gonna be intimidated by Dylan Strome’s dick making its presence, like, slightly known.

There’s a chance that Dylan thinks he’s in love with her, actually, because Dylan falls in love with everything with a pulse and a nice smile, and Mikey has both of those. But Dylan and Mikey are never gonna date, no matter how fucking annoying Mikey’s mom gets about it.

But.

Mikey’s kind of into how into her Dylan is.

It’s refreshing. Mikey doesn’t have to try to be pretty around Dylan, and she doesn’t have to try to be pretty, generally, because guys are easy, but she still has to play by the rules. Giggle at their bad jokes. Be drunk enough and act drunker than you are. Pretend you’re gonna stay the night, even if you have every intention of leaving once they fall asleep. If they give you alcohol, you give them a blowjob, and if they eat you out, pretend it’s good, even if it’s just weird and boring. Let them cuddle you, even if you really don’t want to.

With Dylan, Mikey likes to think that she could just get him on his knees in the Strome family powder room and tell him to eat her out, and as he did it, tell him all the ways he sucks; he’d probably listen, try and get better, maybe even give her a real orgasm without her having to push him off and take care of things herself.

But Mikey doesn’t want to have sex with Dylan. He’s too tall, and he’d probably want to, like, cuddle afterwards, which is not Mikey’s thing, but at the very least, it’s fun to think about, because Mikey could probably feel like herself with him.

Life would be much easier if Nate was a guy, because she’s her best friend, but unfortunately, that’s not how these things work. Mikey’s had sex with a lot of guys, and hasn’t thought about sex with women in anything more than passing since That First Night, so.

Either way, it’s the draft, and Nate’s not answering Mikey’s texts, and Mikey is pissed, so she calls Dylan for a quick confidence boost.

“Hey, hot stuff,” she says when he picks up the phone. “Guess who got drafted.”

“Trust me, my mom is already planning your garage decorations, but you didn’t hear it from me,” Dylan says.

“Trish is a true baller,” Mikey says, and then, “Do you ever have those nights where you just wanna get laid, but can’t manage it?”

Dylan makes a choked noise. “Why are you talking about sex right after you first-named my mom?”

“What? She’s not my mom.”

“You’re gross,” Dylan says.

“She’s kind of a MILF,” Mikey says, and then, in what she considers to be a stroke of pure brilliant, she starts to sing, “Stromer’s mom has got it goin’ on…”

“You’re my least favorite,” Dylan says.

“Right back at ya,” Mikey says. “I’m so bored, dude.”

“Then sleep.”

“I don’t wanna,” Mikey whines. “Bas is MIA, and I have big news for her.”

“What, that you’re in love with her, or something?” Dylan sounds bored. “That’s not news.”

“No, idiot, I got Jersey to draft her,” Mikey says.

Dylan laughs on the other end. “Okay.”

“What? I did,” Mikey says. “Shero said the organization was excited to have me, and I told him I was even better with Bas at my side, and that they should consider bringing her along if she’s still on the board.”

“You _didn’t,”_ Dylan says. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Exactly, and so am I,” Mikey says, feeling smug, and she can practically feel Dylan’s disbelief all the way from Mississauga.

“Jesus, Clouder, find her,” Dylan says. “That’s fucking huge.”

“She’s not at this hotel,” Mikey says.

“Find her hotel,” Dylan says. “Dude, this is literally the ultimate romantic gesture.”

“What?” Mikey says, sitting up really fast. “No, it’s not like that.”

“Oh, come on,” Dylan says. “You pretty much swung it so you would get to spend the rest of your lives together. That’s some Rom-Com shit, right there.”

“It’s because she’s my friend,” Mikey says.

“Right, And because you’re in love with her.”

“I’m not gay, Dyl,” Mikey says.

There’s a beat on the other end, and then Dylan says, “I mean, if you were—”

“I’m not,” Mikey repeats. She would know if she was gay, because— fuck, honestly, she wants to be gay. It’d be awesome if she could just be in love with Nate, but she’s not, so that’s that. “I’ve got guys who can vouch for me on that front.”

Dylan’s breath catches on the other end, and Mikey lies back down on the hotel bed and smiles to herself. “I really don’t need references on your heterosexuality.”

“You sure? A few of them are on your team, it wouldn’t be that hard—”

“We really don’t need to go into the details of your sex life,” Dylan says, cutting her off.

She’s got him right where she wants him, then. “You sure about that one, bud?”

Truly, Mikey wishes she were back in Missy, if only because she would love to see what Dylan’s face is doing right now.

“Positive,” Dylan says, kind of strangled, and Mikey covers her mouth so he can’t hear her laugh.

“Fine, I’ll let your imagination do the work,” she says.

“I’m hanging up now,” Dylan says. “The Devils really found a good fit, because you’re definitely evil.”

“Keep up the dirty talk, mmm, yeah,” Mikey says.

“Stop with that voice, it’s weird,” Dylan says.

“Aw, I thought it was cute,” Mikey says, and she hadn’t even realized she was doing a voice til Dylan had pointed it out, but now she leans into it. “Gonna take a nice, long shower for me once you get off the phone?”

“Bye,” Dylan says, annoyed, and Mikey laughs.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she says, normal, this time. “See you Monday, yeah?”

“Sure thing,” Dylan says.

……

“So,” Nate says, “a girl asked me out.”

And here’s the thing:

A week ago, Mikey was doing everything in her power to make sure she and Nate would be together forever.

A week ago, Mikey put on a well-crafted mask of confidence and put her nonexistent balls on the table to negotiate with an NHL GM.

A week ago, Mikey knew Nate was her future.

And right now, Nate’s just… telling her that. Like it’s almost nothing, or like it’s something she can pretend is nothing—

“Where did you meet her?”

Nate hesitates before answering, “Tinder, actually.”

If a girl found Nate on Tinder, then Nate asked girls to find her on Tinder, and Mikey feels kind of like she could puke.

She doesn’t, though.

She just puts on her realest fake smile, the one that can trick her brothers and the Strome boys into thinking she’s okay.

“What’s her name?” Mikey asks, and before it’s even out of Nate’s mouth, Mikey knows it’s about to be her least favorite name.

It’s not fair, and she knows it, but she also can’t help it, so.

……

Mikey walks into Dylan’s room, not even bothering to knock.

“Fuck me,” she says, arms crossed.

“Hm?” Dylan says, yanking out his earbuds. “What happened?”

“Fuck me,” she repeats, and then she walks over to his bed and climbs on top of him, straddling his hips and hoping he gets the message.

“What’s going on right now,” Dylan says, looking her up and down.

“You wanna fuck me, right?” Mikey says. “This is your chance.”

“My chance,” Dylan echoes.

“Right,” Mikey says. “To fuck me.”

“Can you not say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like, ‘fuck,’” Dylan says. “It’s weird.”

“It’s accurate.”

“Can’t you call it something else?”

“What, making sweet, sweet love? Because absolutely not—”

“Just— sex,” Dylan says, looking at Mikey like he’s still trying to wrap his head around this, like he hasn’t been dreaming of this moment since puberty. “You’re offering to have sex with me.”

“Yes,” Mikey says.

“And you’re angry because…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Mikey says. “Look, are you gonna f— are you gonna have sex with me, or not?”

Dylan stares at her, looks her up and down, and usually Mikey would savor the admiration, but right now, she really doesn’t have the patience.

Finally, Dylan gulps. “I’m really gonna regret this.”

“Is that a yes?”

Dylan sighs, puts his hands on Mikey’s hips, and squeezes. “What’s this really about, Mikey?”

“I’m in a mood, sex usually cheers me up,” Mikey says.

“But _why_ are you in a mood?”

“Because I am.”

“Mikey.”

She sighs, uncrossing her arms. “Someone asked my friend out.”

“So, Nate.”

“I was trying not to say her name,” Mikey says, climbing off Dylan to lie on her stomach next to him. “You get weird about her.”

“No, _you_ get weird about her, I’m just following your lead,” Dylan says.

“I’m not being weird about this,” Mikey says. “I don’t want her to date someone. She’s _my_ friend.”

“She’s still gonna be your friend, even if she starts dating someone,” Dylan says. “Think of the dude as just, like, another friend.”

Mikey groans, and tucks her face into her elbow. “It’s… not a dude.”

There’s a beat before Dylan speaks, and Mikey should probably, like read his face to see if she can figure out what’s going on there, but like fuck is she gonna do that.

Finally, he says, “She said yes?”

“Yep,” Mikey says.

“How long have you known that she’s—”

“Not until earlier,” Mikey says. “When she told me.”

“That she was gay?”

“That she’s going on a date with a girl,” Mikey says. “So, I guess she’s gay, yeah.”

“Could be bi,” Dylan says.

“Does it matter?” Mikey says. “I just— I don’t want to be mad about this, but I am.”

“Mikey…”

“Not in a homophobic way,” Mikey says. “I don’t think. But I can’t tell her that it fucking sucks without sounding homophobic—”

“Don’t tell her,” Dylan says quickly.

“But I don’t wanna hear all about her date,” Mikey says. “It’s just— it’s not just because it’s a girl.”

“It’s a little bit because it’s a girl, though?”

“I just didn’t know that she was even thinking about— like, if she’s down to date girls— that’s, like, a lot.”

“Because she… might be down to date you?” Dylan says.

“Because of a lot of reasons,” Mikey snaps, and then she shoves her face into one of Dylan’s pillows. “Maybe it’s that. I don’t know.”

“It’s okay not to know,” Dylan says.

“No, it’s not,” Mikey says. “I can’t get mad at her for dating other girls before I even know if I want to date her.”

“You can be upset and confused without being mad at her,” Dylan points out.

“Stop being reasonable,” Mikey says. “I’m having a crisis, let me spiral.”

“Nah,” Dylan says. “You’ve activated my older brother side, I’m here to encourage good choices only.”

“I hate you.”

“Love you too,” Dylan says, and then he’s nudging her, gently tugging at her arms.

“What are you doing?” she says, rolling onto her side.

“We’re gonna cuddle,” Dylan says, turning over. “Here, spoon me.”

“You’re the little spoon?”

“Do you wanna be?” Dylan says dryly.

Which is a fair point, honestly, so she wraps her arms around him. “Okay, this was a good idea.”

“I know,” Dylan says, smug.

“You’re my second favorite Strome,” Mikey says. “After Oscar.”

“Not Trish?”

“Nah,” Mikey says. “Not for this, anyway.”

“I’m honored,” Dylan says, and then he runs a hand over Mikey’s forearm. “You’ll be okay.”

Mikey takes a shaky breath. “I hope so.”

“You will,” Dylan says. “It’s you and Nate, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Mikey says.

“So, you’ll be okay,” Dylan says.

And Mikey’s not sure how, exactly, she’ll be okay, but Dylan’s enough like an older brother to her that she wants to believe him, so she does.

They fall asleep like that, the mid-afternoon sun rocking them to sleep, and the bright orange sunset waking them up just in time for Mikey to get home for dinner. Her mom gives her a look when she walks through the door, her hair nap-rumpled, mumbling some excuse about the Stromes, but there are many things Mikey’s mom doesn’t need to know about her, and for the time being, this is one.

……

So, Nate goes out with Jenny-from-Tinder, and Mikey tries and fails not to hate Jenny-from-Tinder.

She’s cute, short with dark brown hair, and she’s got a nice smile, and Nate doesn’t even talk about her that much, but Mikey finds her on Facebook, burns the image of her Tinder pictures and bio into her brain, and she’s not trying to be a stalker, but—

Mikey just. _Hates_ her.

She doesn’t have any reason to, but she does, and she hasn’t come to terms with why that might be three days after Nate’s date, which is unfortunate, because that’s the day Nate shows up at Mikey’s door, looking terrified as hell.

“We need to talk,” Nate says, and Mikey feels weirdly caught.

“Okay,” she manages, hoping she doesn’t sound too weird. “Then talk.”

“The thing is,” Nate says, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, “whenever Jenny asks where I am, and I’m with you, I just tell her I’m busy, or with a friend, or— I don’t know. Not that it’s you.”

“Well, you’re not exactly lying,” Mikey says.

“No, but— she knows I have this, like, super close best friend, and that you’re important to me, but I can never bring myself to tell her that I’m spending time with you, because I feel— I don’t know.” She shrugs. “Guilty, I guess?”

“You guys went out on one date, it’s not like you have to let her know who you’re with at all times,” Mikey says. “Unless she’s, like, your girlfriend now—”

“She’s not,” Nate says quickly. “But— I don’t know. I think we’re gonna try and go out again, but before I do, I think I need you to tell me something.”

“What?” Mikey says, and she’s not sure when her heart started racing like this, but she’s very aware of it, all of a sudden.

“That… that you’re not into girls, or, that you and I will never happen, or just— something,” Nate says.

At first, Mikey thinks that she has to be imagining the words that are coming out of Nate’s mouth, but then she replays them in her head, over and over and over, and even then, it’s only the terrified look on Nate’s face that makes her sure she’s heard her correctly.

“Why?” Mikey says.

“Come on, you know,” Nate says, her expression pained. “It’s just— this could be a really good chance for me to move on, right? And I know it’s dumb, but I have to hear it from you.”

And the thing is—

Mikey wants what’s best for Nate. She’s always wanted that, and she’s always wanted Nate to be happy, and if Nate just needs her to say that, Mikey should be able to.

But Nate probably also needs Mikey to mean it, too, and Mikey— she can’t.

She just. Can’t honestly say that there’s no chance, that there’s nothing there, that she’s going to give her explicit stamp of approval on Nate moving on from her, and she knows it’s so, so selfish, but she _can’t,_ and god, Mikey would give Nate the world if she asked, but she can’t give her this.

“Why does it have to be ‘never’?” Mikey asks.

“Because I know it’s not gonna be now, but I can’t keep being okay with holding out for someday,” Nate says. “I don’t know how Stromer does it—”

“That’s not the same kind of thing, like, at all,” Mikey says, and it’s belatedly hitting her, what Nate is confessing.

“I’m not accusing you of stringing me along, but you’re also— you’re not _not_ stringing me along,” Nate says. “You’re definitely stringing him along.”

“But he’s not— he’s never wanted more than— that’s just him being, like, kinda into me,” Mikey says. “He just wants to hit this, he’s dated plenty of people. He doesn’t even like me that much.”

“Bullshit, he loves you,” Nate says.

“But he wouldn’t care if I started dating someone,” Mikey says. “And— I’m 18, and you’re my favorite person, and— it’s not fair for you to need me to say it’s never gonna happen.”

“It’s not fair for you to keep acting like it could happen,” Nate says. “Aren’t you tired of being jealous?”

“Yes,” Mikey says. “I’m so fucking tired of it, but if I could just stop, I would.”

“Well, I’m tired of waiting for you to realize that you’re straight, and stop fucking with my head,” Nate says.

“If you’re tired of waiting for me, then stop fucking waiting, but I can’t help it if I’m confused, okay?”

“What is there to even be confused about?” Nate says, and Mikey is so hurt she could almost laugh.

“Are you kidding?” Mikey says. “I don’t even know what I’m allowed to want, or allowed to ask you for—”

“Anything,” Nate says, exasperated, like it should’ve been obvious. “Literally anything, I’ve been here the whole time, and you could’ve asked me for _anything,_ and I would’ve given in to you.”

“Well, I didn’t know that.”

“How?”

“Because— I didn’t even know you liked girls until you liked a girl who wasn’t me.”

“That’s such bullshit,” Nate says. “Everyone else fucking knew about my pathetic crush—”

“Is pathetic your word, or theirs?” Mikey says, suddenly angry, too, at anyone who would suggest that.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, it fucking matters,” Mikey says. “Or— fuck, maybe it doesn’t, I don’t know. I’m just telling you, it’s not pathetic.”

Nate groans, except it’s also kind of a grunt, this sharp, angry thing, like she wants to punch something but is holding herself back. “Why can’t you just turn me down?”

“Because I can’t,” Mikey says.

She wants to scream, wants to hit someone, wants to grab a stick and a pile of pucks and shoot them at a wall until her hands bleed, but she can’t do any of those things, so instead, she just grabs the fabric of Nate’s Steelheads tee—which, fucking hell, is apparently Mikey’s, and neither of them had even blinked an eye at that—and balls her hands into fists, yanking Nate close.

“What are you doing, Mikey,” Nate says, in this angry, harsh whisper, and there’s a challenge in it, too, like she doesn’t believe Mikey’s actually doing this.

And, like, fuck _that._

“What do you think,” Mikey snaps, and then, before she really has time to second guess it—not that it would stop her, honestly—she’s pressing their lips together.

It’s been years, and Mikey barely remembers what it was like back then, but she does know that this time is probably different. There’s so much more between them now, and Mikey can feel it in Nate’s mouth in the moment where she kisses back— years of want, and anger, and memory, and, above all, this really fucking pure kind of love.

For the moment where Nate is kissing back, Mikey’s kissing someone to stop herself from screaming at her that she fucking loves her more than she’s ever loved anyone else.

For the moment where Nate is kissing back, Mikey’s kissing someone to show that she’s wanted to kiss her again, that she’s thought about it every damn day since the first time they met.

For the moment where Nate is kissing back, Mikey is kissing her best fucking friend, and the person she will never, ever let go of, the person who’s just— just _hers,_ her person, her partner in crime, her Nate.

But that’s just a moment, because soon, Nate’s pushing her away, wiping at her mouth like she’s disgusted.

“The fuck was that?” Nate says, almost horrified.

“I don’t fucking know,” Mikey says, and she hopes the hurt in her voice fucking stings Nate, too. “Not ‘never.’”

“Clearly,” Nate says, and it’s less hard around the edges, this time.

Mikey wants to hold on to some of the anger she’s feeling, but relief enters her body anyway, totally uninvited, but welcome nonetheless.

“If you’re telling me it’s now or never,” Mikey says, and she really wishes her voice wasn’t so shaky, but there’s not much she can do about that, “then I’m gonna choose now.”

“Do you wanna choose now?” Nate asks.

“I don’t fucking know,” Mikey says. “I’m choosing it, okay? I’m choosing not never.”

“Not never,” Nate echoes.

“Yeah,” Mikey says. “So, what about you?”

“What about me?”

“What are you gonna choose?”

Nate just stares at Mikey, this long, heavy beat where Mikey’s heart is loud in her eardrums and her nails are leaving marks in her palm, but then—

Then Nate’s _there,_ her mouth against Mikey’s again, and this time, neither of them pushes the other off, because there’s too much want here to let anything get in the way.

Mikey’s not sure how long they’re going for, because time slows down and speeds up, hands wandering under Nate’s shirt, feeling the fabric of her bra, and, like, Mikey’s never really gotten why guys go so crazy over boobs, but right now, she wants to touch them, wants to kiss, but that seems like too much, so she holds back.

Nate’s big, but also soft, and Mikey can feel the imprint of elastic on her waist, runs her fingers over it the same way she sometimes does on herself as she’s falling asleep. It’s this innocent, intimate kind of exploration, and the thing is, Mikey’s done so much more with so many people, but she’s not sure she’s ever felt this way about touching someone else’s skin.

It’s like this overwhelming urge to _worship_ Nate, almost, the way her thighs tug at the fabric of her athletic shorts every time she sits, or the way her shoulders look in a tank top. She’s scared, and she doesn’t know how she would even begin to touch all the parts of Nate that she wants to touch, but god, she wants to catalogue every inch of her, with her hands and her mouth and her ears and her eyes, wants to look at all the things she’s never let her eyes linger on for too long and make a record of every sound Nate makes so she can play it over and over and over again, until it’s ingrained in her brain like a melody.

Mikey pretty much never wants to stop kissing Nate. Ever. Even when her lips start to get chapped, and her mouth starts to hurt, and her hands are sore from squeezing at Nate for too long, she doesn’t want to stop.

……

Mikey doesn’t really plan on thinking about the whole thing too much that night, because this is officially a full-blown gay crisis, and she needs to sleep, and not stay up all night thinking about Nate.

So she fully intends to compartmentalize, except then, she’s in the shower, thinking about Nate’s hands, and she’s idly browsing her computer, thinking about Nate’s hips, and she’s changing into pajamas, thinking about what she’d wear if Nate were here and she wanted something that was cute enough to get Nate’s thigh between her legs—

In other words, Mikey gets off.

Many, many times.

Usually, when she masturbates, she has to try really hard to focus on one thing, even if she’s watching porn, or whatever. She’s never watched lesbian stuff explicitly—she’ll watch threesomes, sometimes, or browse options for lesbian porn and pretend it’s out of curiosity, which, in hindsight, may be something she should reexamine—but she’s not even picturing, like, sex. She’s thinking about feelings and noises and stuff she’d only gotten a small taste of earlier, and it’s very much about Nate, but she can’t even really pinpoint why. Mikey’s used to her mind wandering in all sorts of directions while she’s getting off, thinking about homework or hockey plays or TV, and she’s always figured it’s because she’s an easily distracted person, but right now, she can’t not think about Nate.

She’s not even trying to, is the thing. Nate’s just in her brain, the stuff from earlier and the promise of more and all that, and it’s something Mikey feels kind of weird about, but then again, she keeps doing it, so maybe she’s onto something. Orgasms are nice, and afterwards, Mikey usually feels calm and at peace.

And it’s strange, because Mikey expected there to be more guilt or agony or confusion, but once she’s done, she’s kind of just like— yeah, okay, that happened, so Nate is happening.

Mikey sends a quick text to Nate that says _sweet dreams,_ then settles into bed and sleeps really fucking well.

Gay crisis: averted.

……

The next day, Nate tells Mikey that she’s not going out with Jenny-from-Tinder again, and Mikey sends back a bajillion smiley faces. She’s smiling really fucking wide, so she figures they’re warranted.

“What’s going on?” her mom’s voice says, and Mikey startles.

“What?” Mikey says. “Nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” her mom says, raising an eyebrow. “Who are you texting?”

“Nobody, whatever,” Mikey says, and as soon as she says it, she regrets it, because it’s maybe the worst way to convince someone to stop bugging you about your stupid, dopey grin.

The annoying part is, Mikey’s still fucking _smiling,_ and she honestly wants to stop, but that’s not happening any time soon.

“I know that kind of smile,” her mom says, in this playful, knowing kind of way, the same one she used when she took Mikey shopping for her first bra, even though Mikey still holds that she would’ve been fine just getting sports bras and leaving.

“Can we not?” Mikey says, but she knows how her mom can get about ‘girl talk,’ and Mikey would rather not turn this into an argument.

“It’s okay, really,” she says. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on with you and Dylan, but—”

“Dylan?” Mikey says, wrinkling her nose. “Ew, no.”

“Don't worry, you can be honest with me,” her mom says. “I think it’s sweet.”

“I _am_ being honest,” Mikey says. “There’s nothing happening with me and Dylan.”

“Because Trish told me you were over there, and in his bedroom—”

“Mom,” Mikey groans. “I’m 18, and I swear, we were just hanging out.”

“I just want to make sure you’re being safe,” she says, and Mikey would honestly rather melt into a puddle and be mopped up than continue this conversation.

“You really don’t have to worry about me getting pregnant, or whatever,” Mikey says.

“Mikey,” her mom says, fixing her with a look. “I know you’re having sex, it’s okay.”

“Why do we have to talk about this?”

“Because I’m your mother,” she says. “I want you to feel comfortable talking to me about these things.”

Mikey will probably never feel comfortable talking to her mother about these things, if she’s being realistic, but right now she has an in, so she figures she should take it.

“I have a girlfriend,” she says, the word slipping out of her mouth before she can think about it. It’s the first time she’s thought about herself as a girl who could have a girlfriend, and it’s easier to say than she expected, which is some nice validation, even if she hasn’t actually DTR’d with said girl quite yet.

Her mom blinks. “What?”

“Like, I’m dating a girl,” Mikey says. “This is me coming out to you.”

“Oh,” she says, after a beat. “Is it someone I know?”

“It’s Nate,” Mikey says. “And it’s only been since yesterday, so don’t be weird about it, or anything.”

“I’m not being— since when are you…” she shakes her head, like she’s trying to clear her thoughts. “You know we support you no matter what—”

“No, stop, that’s being weird,” Mikey says, and there’s something forming in the pit of her stomach.

“I’m sorry,” her mom says quickly. “I just didn’t exactly expect this.”

“Well, join the club,” Mikey says, not bothering to hold back the anger. “I don’t really need your approval, just so you know, but if this is the only way you’ll believe me when I say I’m not fucking Dylan Strome—”

“Language,” her mom says, and Mikey wants to scream, but all she can manage is a tightly-clenched fist and a frustrated huff that just feels dumb, like she’s a teenage girl fighting with her mom— which she is, but this _matters._

“Can I just go?” Mikey says, and she wants to cry, but she is just not in the mood to feel stupidly emotional right now.

“Mikey,” she says, almost stern, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you—”

“I’m not upset,” Mikey snaps.

Her mom bites her lip, then takes a deep breath. “You’re an adult, so you don’t need my approval, but I am really happy for you and Nate.”

“I don’t care if you are or not,” Mikey says.

“Well, I am,” she says. “She’s always made you happy.”

“Whatever,” Mikey says. “I’m leaving.”

“Mikey—”

“If you need me, I’ll be at Dylan’s, not having sex with him,” Mikey calls over her shoulder.

She slams the door on her way out, then sits in her car and screams for a solid minute before putting the keys in the ignition, hitting the gas, and driving far away from Lorne Park.

……

“‘sup, Cloudsy?” Dylan says, picking up on the first ring, and his voice is so casual it’s almost jarring.

“Hey, you alone?” Mikey says, half a beat too late, and she can practically hear Dylan sit up straighter over the phone.

“Yeah, I’m in my room,” Dylan says. “Everything okay?”

“I came out to my mom.”

“You did?”

Mikey nods.

“So, does this mean you and Nate—”

“We haven’t talked it out yet, but I’m heading over there now,” Mikey says.

“Right now?”

“I’m calling from the car,” Mikey says.

“Wow, um, okay, then,” Dylan says. “Uh, drive safe?”

“What the fuck,” Mikey says.

“I don’t know, go get your girl,” Dylan says.

“That’s what I’m doing,” Mikey says. “I’m— I’m _into_ her, man.”

“I know.”

“I’m gay,” Mikey says. “I’m gay for my best friend.”

“And it’s super cute, or whatever—”

“I’m scared,” she says, cutting off what was probably going to turn into a pep talk, because she needs to hear herself say the words.

She’s in love with her best friend, and her best friend loves her back, and it’s amazing, but still.

Mikey’s fucking terrified.

“Oh,” Dylan says. “That… makes sense.”

“I know it does,” Mikey says.

“I know you know that,” Dylan says. “Just trying to cheer you on, bud.”

“You know, if Nate wasn’t a thing, you’d probably be my favorite person,” Mikey says.

“I’m honored,” Dylan says, and Mikey’s pretty sure he’s smiling. “I’m gonna hang up so you don’t crash your car, okay?”

“I have Bluetooth, Dyl.”  

“Keep your eyes on the road,” Dylan says. “Talk to you later.”

“For sure,” Mikey says. “Thanks. For everything.”

“Of course,” Dylan says, and then they hang up, and it’s just Mikey, an empty car, and a short stretch of highway ahead.

……

Mikey’s relieved it’s Nate who answers the door when she gets to Kitchener, and not, like, her parents, because she’s pretty sure she’s not fit for normal human interaction.

“Hi,” Nate says, staring at Mikey, a little unsure.

“Hi,” Mikey says. “Can I come in?”

“Did I forget you were coming over, or something?” Nate says.

“No, this is me, just, showing up out of the blue,” Mikey says.

“Right, that’s what I assumed,” Nate says. “Uh, why?”

“I don’t know, romantic gestures?” Mikey says. “Please, just— I wanna talk.”

Wordlessly, Nate steps aside to let Mikey in, and the two of them make their way to Nate’s room, Mikey’s hands stuffed firmly in the kangaroo pocket of her sweatshirt so Nate doesn’t see how jittery she is. Not that it matters, because Mikey’s never been able to hide shit like that from Nate, but still, she needs, like, at least a milliliter of courage, right now.

“So,” Mikey says. “I told my mom you’re my girlfriend.”

“You… did?” Nate says.

“Yeah,” Mikey says.

“But you aren’t,” Nate says.

“Well, yet,” Mikey says. “That’s why I’m here.”

“To ask me to… play along?” Nate says.

Mikey blinks. ”Wh— we talked about this a few days ago, right?”

“That conversation didn’t end with us being girlfriends,” Nate says.

“No, but it ended with me saying I wanted to give it a shot, and we haven’t talked about it since,” Mikey says. “And then we made out a lot—”

“I was there for that part,” Nate says.

“Right,” Mikey says. “And, like— I’m not straight, and I’m definitely into you, so I figured I should come here and, like, lock this shit down.”

“What?”

“Let’s do it,” Mikey says. “Let’s be girlfriends. Let me girlfriend you up, dude. We can be gal pals, in the gayest possible way, because, like, my nails are already short, so _yes_ homo, let’s U-Haul this—”

“Okay, I don’t know what half the words you’re saying mean,” Nate says.

“I looked up things lesbians say,” Mikey says. “And a lot of other shit about being a lesbian, too.”

“What’s there to look up?”

“Music, mostly,” Mikey says.

“Huh,” Nate says. “Anything good?”

“Can you tell me whether or not you’ll be my girlfriend before we go into music recs?”

“Oh,” Nate says. “I— do you seriously want that? With me?”

“Yeah,” Mikey says.

“Because I’m cool with like, easing into it, or not being exclusive at first.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Well, no, but—”

“If you don’t want it, then I don’t, either,” Mikey says, and then she grabs Nate’s hand, which is something she’s done a million times before, but never like this. “I’m yours, bud.”

“But you have sex,” Nate says.

Mikey shrugs. “We can have sex.”

“We haven’t yet, though,” Nate says. “You don’t even know if you like sex with me.”

“I like sex, I like you, I’m pretty sure we’ll be able to work it out,” Mikey says. “I’m a fast learner.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I will be, with this,” Mikey says. “Or if not— I don’t know, I just— sex is sex, that’ll happen.”

“But you want to?”

“Want to what?”

“Have sex with me,” Nate says.

And on the one hand, they should probably be past this, but on the other hand, Mikey’s never thought about it directly, so it’s a pretty reasonable question.

The thing is, Mikey can’t want Nate the way she wants guys, because she knows what to do with guys, can look at them and picture their bodies together and decide if that’s something that seems enjoyable. But with Nate, it’s like— yes, Mikey wants to touch her, and kiss her, but she doesn’t know the bases, doesn’t know what tools she has to work with, doesn’t know what the starting point and finish line look like.

But that’s part of the appeal— Mikey doesn’t really know, and neither does Nate, so they’ll just let their hands wander until something feels good. They’ll learn each other, instead of the same generic skills Mikey’s always thought of as Being Good At Sex, and that makes sense, because sex is about two people. Sex with Nate could be anything she wants— all the shit she does when she gets herself off that she’s too embarrassed to ask for, none of the things she pretends to like so she doesn’t have to think too hard about what she’s doing.

And now that she’s thinking about it, she’s pretty sure sex is supposed to be more like this.

The fact is: her head gets kind of fuzzy when she looks at Nate for too long, and she wants to kiss her all the fucking time, and she tries to picture what it would be like to get off in front of Nate, knowing that she’s into it—

“Yeah,” Mikey says, her voice kind of hoarse. Her face is hot, and probably red, and Nate can totally tell that Mikey’s probably thinking about sex with her right now, but, like, whatever. “I want that.”

“Oh,” Nate says, and she looks almost embarrassed, like the news that Mikey wants her in every way a person can want another person is somehow shocking.

“Also, I love you,” Mikey says. “Like, a lot, so.”

“Like, in a friend way?”

“I’m literally asking you to be my girlfriend.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Nate says. “You didn’t even know if you were into girls a few days ago.”

“I was confused, but I figured it out,” Mikey says. “I’ve always loved you. That’s just, like, a thing.”

“But—“ Nate gulps. “Always?”

“Always,” Mikey says, and it’s probably sappy that she’s getting lost in the way Nate is looking at her, but she can’t bring herself to regret it. Maybe lesbian-Mikey is a sap. Mikey could get on board with that.

“That’s… kinda gay,” Nate says, and the corners of her mouth turn up, small and perfect and, yeah, Mikey’s in love with her.

“ _I’m_ kinda gay,” Mikey says.

“Fair point,” Nate says.

“So,” Mikey says, “let’s be kind of gay together, yeah?”

Nate looks at Mikey for a long, happy moment, like she’s taking her in, and then says, “Yeah.”

“Girlfriends?”

“Girlfriends,” Nate confirms, grinning. “Supergirlfriends.”

“The superest,” Mikey agrees.

……

“I’m back, Nate’s here,” Mikey yells, as she walks through the front door.

“Hi honey,” her mom calls back. “Is Nate staying for dinner?”

Mikey turns to her, and shrugs, like, _you wanna?_ and Nate shrugs back, _sure._

“That would be lovely, thank you, Mrs. McLeod,” Nate says, and there’s a second where Mikey doesn’t know why Nate’s being so polite—Mikey’s mom has been Judi to her for years, now—but then it hits her that this is the first time Nate’s here as her girlfriend, so she’s trying to impress her parents.

Which is kind of stupid, but also, totally sick, in a way that makes Mikey’s heart fucking _soar,_ and she wonders how she went so long not letting herself believe this was something she could want.

“We’re going up to my room,” Mikey says.

“Okay, leave the door open,” her mom calls.

Mikey groans. “Mom—”

“Rules are rules,” she says, and Mikey doesn’t want to give her mom too much credit, but she can’t help but be a little relieved that her mom is treating Nate— not normal, really, because this is new, but the same way she’d always treated Matt and Ryan’s girlfriends.

Like. Mikey’s not into the whole thing where her having a girlfriend might be a different kind of thing in the first place, but at least her mom’s not making it any worse, and that’s… something.

……

And it’s weird, but it’s also not, really.

And it’s a lot, but it’s also not, really.

It’s hard to explain, really, because being in love makes her happy, and that makes it harder to look back on the worst parts of being unhappy, and that doesn’t make Mikey any less happy, but also— she has these moments, sometimes, where she’ll remember something that makes her feel kind of sick, even if it felt fine at the time.

Past-Mikey was… much sadder than she realized at the time, and it’s not something Mikey likes to think about all that often, but it’s inescapable, sometimes, because people and memories don’t leave, and sometimes, they claw at you until you do something about them.

So, one day, out of the blue, Mikey finds herself saying, “Thanks for not having sex with me, that one time.”

Dylan blinks. “Uh,” he says, “you’re welcome?”

“Like, I was— I don’t think I would’ve— it wasn’t gonna be fun.”

“You were upset,” Dylan says.

“Yeah,” Mikey says. “And… confused. And I think I don’t like sex with guys.”

“Good thing you’ve got yourself a girlfriend, then,” Dylan says.

“Do you think it’s weird?” Mikey says. “That I’ve had so much sex that I didn’t— I don’t want to say that I didn’t _want_ to have, but—”

“I don’t think it’s weird,” Dylan says, cutting her off. “I’m glad you’re happy now, though.”

And— okay, yeah, of course. It might make the sad times sadder, but, obviously, Mikey is also very glad she’s happy now.

……

“Yo,” Mikey says, “I just had a really soft thought.”

“How soft is really soft?”

“Like, a teddy bear holding cotton candy,” Mikey says.

“Aw,” Nate says. “Wait, was that the thought?”

“No, that’s just something that’s as soft as what I was just thinking,” Mikey says.

“So what were you thinking?”

“Just— I think loving you might be the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

Nate cracks a smile. “Yeah,” she says. “That’s pretty fucking soft.”

**Author's Note:**

> Spoiler-y warnings: There is a mention of a 16-year-old girl having sex with a 20-year-old man. Mikey is a lesbian, but has a lot of sex with men, though not described in graphic detail. There is also a coming-out-to-a-parent scene.
> 
> When I started writing this I was like "okay no one's ever gonna see this I'll write it for myself" then I hit 6k and couldn't stop talking about it and finally made peace with the fact that i was gonna put even more of my own gay crisis on archive of our own dot org. this was cathartic for me to write and i hope it was cathartic for you to read. 
> 
> i'm lottswrites on tumblr!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] sharp-edged circles and sweet things that sting](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17303627) by [growlery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/growlery/pseuds/growlery)




End file.
